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chapter seven of Robert Fitch's excellent book
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CHAPTER SEVEN
DAILY LIFE IN THE LABORERS UNION
Page 132
THE DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN SOLDIER
When sixty-eight-year-old Gaspar Lupo died in the late spring of
1989, it marked the end of two meticulously intertwined careers:
one open, the other secret. In his public calling, Lupo had served for more
than two decades as the president of the New York Mason Tenders District
Council, the umbrella organization for a dozen locals and 10,000 laborers
in the five boroughs and Long Island. He’d operated at the highest circles
of the New York labor movement, earning nearly $400,000 a year; the state
AFL-CIO elected him a vice president, and he served on the executive
board of the New York City Central Labor Council.
It was Lupo’s hidden calling, though, that explained his eminence in organized
labor: Gaspar Lupo was a made member of the Genovese crime
family, the largest, most powerful criminal organization in the United
States.1 As president of the Mason Tenders District Council, Lupo was
elected by delegates from the locals. With one exception, the locals were all
run by New York City crime families. The Gambinos ran one local and the
Luccheses three, but the Genoveses controlled all the rest, so the majority
mob ruled.
The Mason Tenders perform the hardest, most dangerous jobs in the
building industry: removing asbestos, demolition, and doing grunt work
for plasterers and masons. They make anywhere from $30 to $43 an hour
plus substantial benefits.2 But because laborers are comparatively unskilled,
they’re highly vulnerable to being replaced by non-union laborers,
who may earn as little as $8.50 an hour for the same work.
This is where Lupo and his goombata came in. Officially, it was their job
to enforce the contract, protecting the members from employers who
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TOTALLY MOBBED UP
DAILY LIFE IN THE LABORERS UNION
Page 133
would otherwise hire $8.50-an-hour workers. Unofficially, though, Lupo
& Co. made sure the employers could hire all the low-wage, non-union
workers they wanted, in exchange for bribes. It was a service officials
claimed to be proud of. “Have we screwed the worker? ”an attorney for one
of the Mason Tenders locals asked rhetorically when confronted by an accusatory
reporter. “Some schnook who can’t read or write gets a job at $10
an hour? Hey, we made him a person.”3
In criminological circles, the Genovese crime family is known for the
discipline and discretion it imposes on its members. All his life, Lupo
lived on the down-low as an obedient Genovese soldier. He avoided publicity.
His typical attire—rep tie, pastel jacket, and dark slacks—made
him look more like a typical senior citizen than a wiseguy; there were no
pinkie rings on his thick, stubby fingers. He followed the rules and took
orders—even from much younger men. His obedience caused more
thuggish mobsters to laugh at him behind his back. “Gaspar’s a good,
good man. He’ll do anything I tell him,” boasted James Messera, the Genovese
capo to whom Lupo reported. “Anything, I mean anything. I don’t
give a fuck if I tell him to jump off the roof, he’ll jump from the fucking
building.”4
In public, of course, Lupo gave the orders. Every five years, someone on
the Mason Tenders’ Genovese-controlled executive board would move to
nominate, second, and reelect Lupo. It was the same ritual that had been
practiced in the 1920s when Lupo’s father-in-law, Charles Graziano,
presided over the Mason Tenders.
The locals were just miniature versions of the district council—each, it
seemed, had its reigning family. In Local 66 on Long Island, there was the
famous Vario family—Paulie Vario was “Paulie Cicero” in Martin Scorsese’s
Goodfellas (played by Paul Sorvino). In Manhattan, there was the Giardina
family, who ran Local 23 for the Gambinos. There were two
branches of the Pagano family, both affiliated with the Genoveses; one ran
Local 59, the other Local 104.5Mostly they’d been around for generations.
But within five years of Lupo’s death, largely because of his successors’
flamboyant lack of Genovese discipline, the extraordinary enterprise that
the family had built up over three quarters of a century would be shaken
to its foundations. Federal authorities charged more than twenty officials
with labor racketeering. Lupo’s oldest son would go to jail. The government
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would take over the union, wipe out the Genovese locals, and create fewer,
larger locals, which would in theory be less vulnerable to Mafia control.
Dozens of made guys and associates who’d battened on the payroll were
banned for life. For the city’s crime families, it would take years to recoup
even a portion of their former influence—and income.
Meanwhile, ongoing court proceedings exhumed family secrets about
the district council and the individual locals—how mob-connected officials
enriched their non-union construction companies; how they carried
out their pension fund scams; and how their awards of health care contracts
to obvious quacks destroyed the health funds. It added up, investigators
claimed, to perhaps the biggest fund rip-off in labor history.
But the total sums—estimated at over $65 million—were soon dwarfed
by scandals in several other construction unions. Plumbers officials, for
example, would be charged with misappropriating four times that amount.6
There was certainly nothing new in running a labor peace racket, however
comprehensive. The novelty lay not so much in what was done, or even in
who was doing it—mob influence prevails in most New York City construction
trades—but in the matter of degree.7 The Mason Tenders were
TOTALLY MOBBED UP. Union governance was simply a matter of mob protocols.
All decisions of consequence were made not by union leaders in the
Mason Tenders headquarters on Eighteenth Street but by a Genovese capo
in the family clubhouse on Mott Street. Ultimately, though, what the revelations
added up to was that the Laborers in New York City faithfully mirrored
the history and operation of the parent union, the 600,000-member
Laborers International Union of North America (LIUNA).
In the Laborers, a century-long tradition of corruption had transformed
the casual nepotism of the labor movement into a rigid, almost
pharaonic dynastic system. Mob guys didn’t have to marry their sisters or
undergo ritual mummification, but they maintained a similar ancestor
cult for similar reasons—the promotion of loyalty, stability, and trust.
And even if they’ve still got a long way to go to rival the 2,500-year span of
the Old,Middle, and New Kingdoms, they’ve also managed to parlay inherited
office into life-and-death control over their subjects.
LIUNA was probably the first U.S. union to come under the control of
organized crime, and for more than a century, precedent and practice,
custom and mores have maintained the most direct and most complete
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Mafia rule over a union anywhere in America and probably anywhere in
the advanced industrialized world. The Laborers thus serve as an archetype
of what’s wrong with the domestic labor movement, and the New
York Mason Tenders are a faithful embodiment of the type whose dimensions
have been made unusually clear by the marvels of electronic surveillance.
How can it really be said, though, that the Laborers are even more mobdominated
than the Teamsters or the Longshoremen or the Hotel and
Restaurant Workers Union? All four AFL-CIO unions were identified in
the president’s 1986 Crime Commission Report as the most mobbed up
in America.8What’s so special about the Laborers?
Fewer degrees of separation. Compare, for example, the government’s
1988 RICO (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organization Act) case
against the Teamsters with its 1993 draft complaint against LIUNA.9 In the
Teamsters, only a dozen out of about 2,500 locals were charged with being
run by actual members of organized crime.10 Most were crime family associates—
union officials who weren’t formally inducted into the mob but
who owed their positions to mob backing and who reciprocated by taking
mob orders and sharing bribes, kickbacks, extortion fees, and benefit fund
loot.
In the Laborers, though, it was far more common for the head of the local
or a district council to be a made guy—like Gaspar Lupo, who actually
went through the traditional Mafia ceremony, where you swear allegiance
for life and they burn the saint’s picture in your hand. In several cities the
head of the local Laborers union was actually the head of the local crime
family. Like the pharaoh, who wore two crowns—red and white, symbolizing
two kingdoms—John Riggi, the New Jersey boss of the DeCavalcante
family, was also the business manager of LIUNA Local 394 in
Elizabeth.11 In 2003, Riggi—already in prison on extortion charges—
pleaded guilty to the murder of Fred Weiss, a Staten Island contractor.The
murder was a favor, Riggi testified, to John Gotti of the Gambino crime
family. Gotti feared the contractor might cooperate with law enforcement.
“I and the others met and we agreed Fred Weiss should be murdered,”
Riggi explained. “Pursuant to that agreement, Fred Weiss was murdered.
That’s it.”12
Riggi had paid the price of wearing the dual crown. Serving as the head
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of a major labor organization had raised his public profile. But in taking
more risks, he had reaped more rewards: the fewer people between you
and the swag, the more there is to earn. Besides, why waste all those six-figure
union official salaries on people who aren’t even in the family?
THE OLD KINGDOM
Francis Ford Coppola, director of The Godfather, says he modeled Vito
Corleone in large part on Vito Genovese, founder of the Genovese
crime family. To understand Vito Corleone and his enterprise in New
York, Coppola takes us back to Corleone, Sicily. But to grasp the malignant
dimensions of the present-day Genovese influence in the New York Laborers
and the union as a whole requires a double flashback, first to Italy
and then to Chicago.
The Laborers are the most mobbed-up union in America mostly because
they’ve been mobbed up the longest. Not only the tradition of force
but the force of tradition combine to repel countervailing influences. It
wasn’t until the 1920s, the muscling-in era, that unions all across America
came under the control of organized crime. But in the Laborers, the mob
had almost a generation’s head start. In fact, organized crime control over
the Chicago locals preceded the foundation of the international union
itself.
But Chicago has to be seen against the background of southern Italian
immigrant tradition and Sicilian labor racketeering. The Old World racketeering
system wasn’t transplanted directly or all at once to America.13 It
proceeded in stages, starting with immigrant laborers trapped in the
padrone system. In the late nineteenth century, Italian immigrants from
southern Italy paid exorbitant commissions to better-established Italian
American immigrant labor bosses in exchange for work. The contractors
paid the padrone, and the padrone, after taking a hefty cut—the pizzu—
paid the worker. Essentially it was a kind of peonage,14 but with a typically
American twist in which successful peons sometimes wound up as
padrones. And the most successful padrones sometimes ended up as pioneer
crime syndicate bosses.
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It was a former padrone who became the patron saint of organized
crime in Chicago and the founder of the Chicago Laborers union.15 Al
Capone gets too much credit. He simply added, by violent means, to a
trade union empire that had been built from scratch in the Laborers by
James “Big Jim” Colosimo. A generation before Capone, even before the
1903 creation of the Laborers as an international union, Colosimo had become
the principal force in the Laborers. As a young pimp, he’d married a
middle-aged madam and gone on to control a chain of South Side whorehouses.
Colosimo later established Chicago’s first Italian American crime
syndicate—but it was his founding of the Laborers union in Chicago that
made him a different kind of crook.
Colosimo created the Chicago Street Sweepers and Street Repairs
Union: the “White Wings,” so called because of their white uniforms. Controlling
the White Wing votes gave Colosimo leverage over the Chicago
South Side Democratic Party machine, which in turn favored his members—
and his hookers. It was the first fiefdom in what would be
Colosimo’s steadily expanding trade union domain, consisting mostly of
pick-and-shovel laborers’ locals, employing mainly Italian American
workers.16
What made Colosimo such a pioneer in the organized crime field was
that he was the first to take over otherwise legal institutions—labor
unions—and bring them together with illegal operations in whorehouses,
liquor, and gambling to create an integrated, citywide crime conglomerate.
Wider territories gave Big Jim the power to hire more shooters, bribe
more politicians, and out-intimidate his rivals.
Colosimo did so well he was able to turn over the day-to-day affairs of
the local unions to younger subordinates. The White Wings, he awarded
to his bodyguard, “Dago Mike” Carozzo. Although Dago Mike had once
been indicted for murder, it scarcely slowed his ascent in the American labor
movement. He wound up running over two dozen mob Laborers locals
in Chicago. By the 1920s, Carozzo was a fixture on the executive board
of the AFL. He joined another Italian American Laborers official from
Chicago,“ Diamond Joe” Esposito, head of Sewer and Tunnel Workers Local
2. Like Carozzo, Esposito had also been indicted for murder without
any damaging vocational effects. Like Colosimo, he’d also been a padrone.
But Diamond Joe’s reign lasted only a few years. It was cut short, allegedly
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on orders from Al Capone. Fifty-eight garlic-tipped bullets were found in
Esposito’s body.
In the 1920s, Chicago led the nation in elaborate and closely watched
gangster funerals. The meticulously organized last rites became the simplest
way to grasp the politics of union succession: just observe who
buried whom. In 1921, when a young local Laborers leader, Joe Moreschi,
appeared as one of the six pallbearers at the funeral of the Sicilian Mafia
boss of Chicago, it was a reliable sign of future eminence.17 Sure enough,
in 1926,Moreschi became the first mob-controlled president of the International
Laborers and Hod Carriers Union.18
Moreschi would last as long as any of the most tenacious pharaohs in
the Old Kingdom. He held on to the ruling position until 1968—forty-two
years. During most of his reign, no conventions or elections were
held. When he died, at eighty-four, he was replaced by another Chicago
dynasty: the Foscos—Peter Fosco (1968–1975) and, after Fosco’s death,
his son Angelo (1975–1993). The Foscos’ continuous rule simply expressed
the continuation of mob control in the Chicago Laborers locals.
The old White Wings became Local 1001, representing 2,700 sanitation
workers. But they’re still controlled by Colosimo’s descendants—the Outfit—
according to a 2004 complaint by a government-sanctioned internal
prosecuting attorney.19 And in 1999, Diamond Joe Esposito’s Local 2 was
put under trusteeship for alleged mob control.20
At last, though, with Angelo Fosco’s death in 1993, a real rupture took
place—the wresting of the international union from the Chicago mob’s
control. Practically on his dying day, Fosco was pulled out of bed and ordered
by the Chicago Outfit to jet off to a meeting of the LIUNA executive
board in Miami. There he was supposed to support the transfer of power
to an Outfit-backed successor. He got as far as the lobby of the Bal Harbour
Sheraton. Then, as he was being wheeled in on a gurney in a tangled
array of tubes and needles, attended by nurses and aides, “he croaked.”21
Fosco’s death allowed the incumbent general secretary-treasurer, the
no. 2 official, Arthur Coia Jr., to round up the votes he needed to steal the
general presidency away from the Outfit. Coia could afford to risk
Chicago’s anger because he had the apparent backing—and presumably
the protection—of the eastern crime families, principally the Genoveses,
who now controlled the international executive board. They had supported
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his father, Arthur E.Coia, for the no. 2 job, and now they supported
the son for the no. 1 position.22
Coia Jr. was almost immediately identified by the Justice Department,
in a 212-page complaint, as a “mob puppet.”23 Still, he managed to last
seven years before the government took him down on felony tax charges.24
He survived until 2000 by skillfully cultivating Bill Clinton on the one
hand and the Genovese-led eastern block of families on the other. Nevertheless,
Coia acquired a reputation as a Mafia-busting reformer. Under an
unprecedented agreement that allowed him to run the cleanup of his own
administration, the Justice Department insisted on getting many scalps,
so it was scalps that Coia provided. Mostly, though, they belonged to his
Chicago adversaries, not his own eastern supporters.
Coia was particularly careful not to bruise the foreheads of the leadership
of the Genoveses’ flagship union—the New York Mason Tenders. In
1994, when the feds issued their 214-count racketeering complaint against
Lupo et al., it was inevitable that some wiseguys would have to go. But for
Coia Jr. to keep control of the Laborers, it was also crucial that many bad
guys would have to stay.
It was a testament to his survival skills that Coia Jr. managed, for longer
than anyone would have supposed, to maintain two faces. To the government,
he appeared as the great scourge of union corruption. To the mob
associates and dynastic families who had run the Mason Tenders for generations,
he was their indulgent uncle, recommending them for top positions
in the new, “reformed” Mason Tenders, and then, when the court
monitor dug in his heels, sending the wiseguys off to top administrative
jobs with the Laborers’ Albany, New York, welfare funds. Displaying both
guile and grace under pressure, Coia surmounted a deadly threat to his
political base. Never before in more than three-quarters of a century of
operation had the mob-controlled New York Mason Tenders faced federal
prosecution: how had they finally got caught?
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POWER IN THE NEW YORK KINGDOM
Gaspar Lupo’s aggressive displays of loyalty may have concealed a streak
of independence or just simple common sense. Perhaps it was just nice
luck and good timing, but as long as Lupo occupied the top office, the Mason
Tenders managed to stay out of major trouble with the criminal justice
system. Under Lupo, the number of people allowed to steal from the
funds was kept within reasonable bounds. The amounts stolen were never
so great as to impair the funds’ ability to pay out benefits, and pension
thieves didn’t advertise their thefts by conspicuous consumption.
Within a year of Lupo’s death, capo James Messera was organizing huge
rip-offs of the funds that were so blatant that even the Mason Tenders’
lawyer, who participated in Lupo’s routine rip-off schemes, was afraid to
OK them. Eventually, $50 million to $60 million disappeared from pension,
health, and annuity funds. Members with AIDS lost their health coverage.
Most of the money disappeared in crooked real estate deals. The
purchase of the West Eighteenth Street Mason Tenders headquarters
building, according to prosecutors at the time, produced one of the
biggest thefts in pension fund history.
No sooner had the Eighteenth Street deal gone down than Messera’s
principal scam partner, a Long Island strip club operator, went out and
bought four Mercedes Benzes and a yacht. In 1990, the U.S. attorney for
the Southern District indicted Messera and half a dozen members of his
crew on unrelated charges. Most of the made guys did time. Messera himself
got thirty-nine months. Finally, in 1994,Messera was indicted for his
role in the pension fund scam.
Both of Lupo’s sons, Frankie and Jimmy, the boys he’d groomed to take
over the Mason Tenders after he died, were indicted too. Lupo would get
his wish—his sons would follow him as president. But their terms as top
union officers would turn out to be little more than brief apprenticeships
for prison life.
For a couple of generations at least, criminologists have debated
whether or not organized crime might perform some essential social
function. Primarily because the FBI was able to bug the Genoveses’ clubhouse
at 262 Mott Street and because James Messera, the Genovese capo
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who ran the Mason Tenders, was such a blowhard, we have a clearer idea
of what mob guys really do in unions.
Diego Gambetta, an Italian sociologist whose book The Sicilian Mafia
has become an academic classic, suggests that mafiosi are chiefly in the
business of providing protective services. The “men of honor” help stabilize
transactions in a world lacking in trust.25 Less academically trained observers
have suggested that the mob is made up primarily of thieves, nott
genuine businessmen. Probably both are right as far as they go: a principal
occupation for the mob is providing protective services for thieves, but
stealing on their own account can’t be ignored either.
Yet neither the emphasis on protective services nor the focus on thievery
captures the key political dimension of mob unionism. The mob leaders
of the Laborers are some of the most murderous people on the
continent. But notwithstanding the muscling-in era of the 1920s and
1930s, the Mafia has been able to capture and maintain control of trade
unions less through overt violence than through their mastery of the politics
of job trust unionism.
Mob leaders will kill without hesitation whoever seems to constitute a
threat, particularly snitches and those who might grab their territory. But
ordinary union members don’t constitute a threat, so there’s no point in
worrying about them. Would-be union opponents can’t muster much of
a following in an institution dominated by the politics of patronage.
Members aren’t involved in any decisions, so they don’t have any information
that would be useful to prosecutors.
John Riggi, a DeCavalcante boss who served as head of the Elizabeth,
New Jersey, Laborers local, has made this point clear. He’s a confessedd
cold-blooded murderer. But he drew the line at rough stuff against his
members. It was unnecessary. When a dissident faction of African Americans
began protesting discriminatory hiring practices at a Local 394
meeting, Riggi’s dad, the union’s former business manager, wanted to go
after them. “Don’t argue with these guys, Pop,” Riggi told his father, according
to testimony before the National Labor Relations Board. “I’ll hitt
him in the pocket book where it hurts.” The ringleader of the protest
wound up working twenty-six hours in two years.26
An ordinary non-mob union boss might have applied the same sanction..
In fact, there’s a lot of overlap: hiring hall favoritism, no-show jobs,
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spreading around contractor kickbacks to subordinates—how different is
the mob union leader’s game from the ordinary corrupt trade union
leader’s? Not very. The aims and the rules aren’t all that different. It’s just
that the mob’s game is played at a much higher level. Ultimately, the union
political game is not based on issues or programs or on principles of solidarity
but on personal loyalties. And the mob knows how to play that game
above the rim. For one thing, fear inspires loyalty. Mob guys know how to
create closer, more reliable, more proactive social networks. They upholdd
and revere tradition; they use ritual and kinship organization. They use
family institutions to substitute for normal political institutions like open
conventions or meetings. A hereditary officialdom requires a closed selection
mechanism. The mob funeral has evolved for this purpose.
LUPO’S FUNERAL: A WISEGUY JOB FAIR
IIn bygone days, mob funerals were decorous extravaganzas. In 1924, at
the wake for Dion O’Bannion, a top Chicago gangster, the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra played Handel. Chicago Tribune reporters described how
the body “lay in state” as mourners silently filed by. Then the pallbearers,
led by labor racketeer Maxie Eisen, president of the Kosher Meat Peddlers
Association, bore the casket to the hearse.27
Nowadays mob funerals are more utilitarian and less liturgical, andd
more like rowdy job fairs than ceremonies of last respect. Retainers jostle
each other for better positions and more lucrative contracts; loud arguments
break out over rights of succession and threaten to drown out the
organ music.
At the funeral of Arthur Coia Sr., in Providence, Rhode Island, in 1993,
Coia Jr., the Laborers’ newly selected general president, complained about
two thick-necked mourners who arrived from Chicago. At full volume,
they threatened trouble if Coia didn’t return LIUNA to the hands of those
who owned it. A generation before, it had been the Chicago mob that enforcedd
funeral discipline. At Peter Fosco Sr.’s 1975 funeral, Terence J.
O’Sullivan, the father of the reigning LIUNA president, was forced into
early retirement as punishment for disrupting the proceedings with hiss
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importunate demands for higher office. Similar threats and barely suppressed
violence marked Gaspar Lupo’s final hours above ground.
Frankie Lupo, Gaspar’s oldest son at forty-five, stood next in the Lupo
line of succession for the $391,000-a-year president’s job. He complained
about the buzzing crowd of favor-seeking retainers at Vernon C.Wagner’s
two-room funeral parlor in Hicksville, Long Island. In one room lay the
body and the principal mourners. In the other, recalled Frankie Lupo,
“there were all these officials having loud conversations. You go to your father’ss
funeral and you’ve got some person that doesn’t even have the respect
to wait till the funeral’s over to talk about jobs.”28
But Frankie Lupo himself turned out to be the biggest favor seeker at
his father’s funeral. Not only did he want the top job for himself, hee
wanted his brother Jimmy to get the no. 2 job.
At least that’s how Genovese boss James Messera remembered it.“ Now
at the funeral the first day I was there,” Messera recounted a few weeks
later, “Frankie [Lupo] was there. And I told Frankie, ‘You got the number
one position there.’ He says, ‘Can I put my brother there?’” Frankie was
asking for the two top Mason Tenders positions—president for himself
and business manager for his brother. His father had held them both. Besides
the salaries, whoever got the positions could serve as a pension andd
benefit fund trustee.
Messera claimed he wanted to divide the patronage plums more evenly.
“‘You know,’ I says, ‘Frankie, I want to put Baldo [Mule], give him a shot.
He’ll retire in six and a half years. . . . Let him retire with a little dignity outt
of this fucking joint. Your brother ain’t ready for it yet.’” Frankie’s brother
Jimmy was eight years younger. Baldo Mule was the fifty-seven-year-old
son-in-law of Joe “Lefty” Loiacono, Messera’s predecessor as Genovese
captain in charge of the District Council.
Mule was almost family. He was an adult. And Frankie Lupo, no roofjumper
like his father, needed supervision. Putting Mule in one of the top
two Mason Tenders positions, as Messera explained to a family member,
would mean a pair of ears at the top reporting back directly to the family..
At the same time, Mule’s ascension would mean less independence for
Frankie Lupo, who was an associate, not a trusted member of the family
like his father.29
It was obvious that what was at stake in the arguments at the funerall
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was power—above all power to award jobs and take bribes as well as to
control $200 million in pension funds. But Lupo and Messera talked
around the main issue, speaking in terms of legitimacy and respect..
“You know, my family always had the number one [and] number two
position,” Messera recalled Frankie Lupo saying, “My father held the positions
until later on in years he brought me in.”
“Well you ain’t going to hold two positions,” shot back Messera.
“Please Jimmy,” said Frankie, “I won’t get no respect in that joint. Fifty
years, a member of this family held the one and two spots. Besides, I know
my father would want it this way.”
Messera disputed the old man’s intention. “Gaspar,” he recalled, “had
no fucking use for that kid [Jimmy Lupo].”He “treated him like a jerk-off.”
Lupo never brought Jimmy along when they would eat together. Still,
Messera decided to be generous and grant Frankie’s wish. “All right
Frankie, if it means that fucking much, all right.””
The real lines of authority in the Mason Tenders weren’t on paper. The
actual headquarters of the union at the time wasn’t on Thirty-seventh and
Park Avenue South. It was at 262 Mott Street in Jimmy Messera’s social
club. Messera didn’t appreciate the comments of Nino Lanza, who had
taken sides at the funeral with the Lupos and even told Messera he should
restrain his generosity toward his associates. “Do me a favor,” Messera
said. “Tell this fucking Nino we’ll make the decisions here, not him. Lou
[Casciano] and Al’s [Soussi] getting a raise. Give them the fucking cars I
think they should get. Get a nice Oldsmobile or get a nice Buick. Whatever
the fuck he’s looking for. You know, one of these sporty-looking motherfuckers.
I just said to Frankie, ‘He’s getting a fucking raise and he’ll get any
fucking car he wants. And give that fucking message to Nino.’””
The night after Lupo’s funeral, the recollection of Lanza’s insubordination
ate away at Messera. “I didn’t sleep a wink,” he complained. “I was
walking the fucking floor.” Messera decided to give Frankie Lupo something
to think about too. He ordered a subordinate to call Lupo .“Tell him
his fucking brother ain’t got the number two spot. Baldo got number two.
And tell your brother because of that loudmouth motherfucker [Sal
Lanza, Nino’s brother] he ain’t got number two spot.”30
Later Messera would explain his concerns about Gaspar Lupo’s son
Frankie to a member of his crew. “If I gotta worry about . . . his son fuckin’
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me, then he ain’t gonna last. He won’t be there five minutes. I don’t give a
fuck if it’s Lupo’s son. I’ll take this motherfucker down in one second and
he won’t be there anymore.”
WHICH SIDE ARE THEY ON?
The Mason Tenders tapes show that while Messera didn’t have the total
control he boasted of, it was only because other factions in the Genovese
crime family had to be taken into account. Evidently, the Genoveses
had the power. What did they do with it?
Despite America’s longtime obsession with the Mafia, it’s still not at allll
clear what the members actually do—besides practice colorful rituals, talk
dirty, and whack people—especially in unions, which have been among
their most important businesses. “It’s our job to run the unions,” Gambino
boss Big Paul Castellano once observed in an FBI-recorded lecture.
Mobsters are frequently charged with “labor racketeering”—but what’s’s
the racket? Evidently, the mob doesn’t work pro bono. But cui bono? There
are only two sides in a market transaction. The buyer—the boss—and the
seller—the worker. Where does the mob put its leverage?
On questions of this sort, scholars connected with academic labor studies
programs have practiced an omertà rivaling the Mafia’s own.31 Lawyers
and prosecutors have been less reticent. But their concern is chiefly with
law enforcement, not with the union as an institution in civil society. Hollywood
has provided only a bit more illumination. The classic modern
mob movies—Coppola’s Godfather series and Scorsese’s Goodfellas and
Casino—ignore mob unionism. Elia Kazan’s On the Waterfront,made over
half a century ago, gives us a sidelong glance via longshore leader Johnny
Friendly—smooth, brutal, and inhuman. Obviously he’s with management;;
he wears an overcoat, like the ship owners, not a bomber jacket, like
the members. He has thugs to beat and kill informers who threaten his
rackets with the ship owners. But it’s not really clear what the rackets are.
A Hollywood close-up of labor racketeering, like full-frontal male nudity,
remains beyond the pale.
But the Mason Tenders case brings the mob’s presence in unions into
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clearer focus. In the New York Mason Tenders, mobsters were charged
with a huge number of racketeering acts—the 1994 RICO complaint
itemizes over two hundred, and for each act, there might be as many as
forty or fifty counts. The overwhelming majority are for bribery: taking
money from contractors to avoid payment of union wages or benefits, or
both, or maybe just ignoring overtime.
The bribes at the shop steward level from subcontractors for allowing
non-union labor on a particular site ranged from $250 to $1,000.32 Local
officers who controlled larger jurisdictions could nick subcontractors forr
a lot more: $1,000 to $4,000 for the same thing—the use of cheap nonunion
labor. Higher up the hierarchy, though, the Mason Tenders “field
representatives”—all “connected”—who were supposed to patrol construction
sites to make sure contractors paid their contributions to the
funds, actually earned more substantial sums by letting them ignore or
discount the payments.
The complaint didn’t include a single count for extortion. The absence
of extortion charges against what may have been the most mobbed-up
union in America is notable, especially given what mob-involved contractors
have customarily claimed when they are indicted—that they were extorted.
Going back to Thomas Dewey’s 1937 prosecution of the Dutch
Schultz restaurant racket, the classic employers’ defense has been that they
paid money to mobsters only because they were afraid. It’s true that it’s often
hard to distinguish between a bribe and extortion. Ultimately, though,
the distinction turns on whether you get a real service for your money. Are
they avoiding an additional cost or acquiring a significant benefit? In the
restaurant racket case, the jury thought there was a benefit. The ten defendants,
union leaders and restaurant owners alike, were pronounced guilty
on all counts.
Calling strikes and then demanding bribes to call them off is the classic
shakedown threat. Bosses pay just to avoid the greater cost of a strike. That
didn’t happen in the Mason Tenders. And on the basis of available evidence,
such naked extortion may be on the way out. The mob seems to be
more solicitous nowadays of its contractor clients. In the case of one contractor
who paid the Gambinos to have a job action called off, it turned
out that Mason Tenders Local 23’s Louie Giardina couldn’t deliver. The
contractor who paid $50,000 and got no relief felt cheated and threatenedd
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to go to the district attorney, but instead of getting whacked, he got a full
refund and an apology.33
For the Mafia, pension fund pilfering may represent the canoli of labor
racketeering, but bribery is the everyday pasta. If most of what ordinaryy
unionism is about is getting and enforcing contracts, most of what mob
unionism is about is undermining contracts. Instead of making sure that
the contractors live up to the contract, mobsters make sure that the contractors
are all paid up for the right not to have to live up to them.34
One dialogue that took place in 1989 in Little Italy is a virtual one-actt
play illustrating how the natural impulses of the legitimate trade unionist
to uphold the contract are thwarted by mob control. The two characters
are real: Al is Al Soussi, one of the Genoveses’ “field reps” at the Mason
Tenders District Council. The job of the field rep is to enforce the contract——
to make sure that the wages and benefits called for in the contract
are being paid to the members. Carl is an ordinary laborer in the Mason
Tenders. He wants to help the union by calling in the name of a non-union
company. Al is furious because the non-union company belongs to him.
Carl: I give him the name of the company. He goes, ‘No, it’s not union,
but we’re gonna get it unionized in a couple of days’ . . .
Al: What was the name of the company??
Carl: D-E-P, something like that.
Al : D-E-P’s my company, you cocksucker, what’re you crazy?
Carl: No.
Al: Yeah, that’s my company. Yeah, yeah, yeah, D-E-P, yeah, yeah, I got
the shake on ’em.What’re you interferin’ it?
Carl: No, I called——
Al : (Yelling) Yeah, yeah, you called the delegate on me! Now what?
Carl: It’s on Seventy-sixth . . .
Al: Yeah, now what? Now what d’ya do, now that you ratted on me?
Carl: How do I know?
Al: (Shouting) Why didn’t you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut?35
Whatever the Mafia’s origins as “primitive rebels,” today’s mobsters in
the labor movement are no populists.36 Clearly, a big reason why mafiosi
tend to side with the bosses instead of the members is that they are the
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bosses. A mob-dominated union is no more than a particularly virulent
form of employer-dominated union.
PE